The Cynical, Frustrated Romantic Hypothesis
by Cortexikid
Summary: Wasn't she told by him once that beneath every cynic there is a frustrated romantic? Not too distant future-fic. Peter/Olivia.


**The Cynical Frustrated Romantic Hypothesis**

**By Cortexikid**

**A/N: Just a small one-shot to cheer me up…being sick during Summer sucks!**

**Disclaimer: If Fringe really were mine…well, let's just say there would be a lot more shirtless Peter scenes ;-)**

**Time-Line: Sometime in the not-too distant future… an idealistic view after all the madness of the inter-dimensional War dies down.**

Graces of bright, virtuous sunlight shone onto the closed fluttering eyelids of Peter Bishop as he clawed desperately on the edge of sleep and reality. She could just stand here, all day long, observing him with a soft smile embracing her lips, coffee mug in hand and an overly large t-shirt draping her toned body.

It was a rare sight to behold. The elusive, enigmatic, gifted mesmerist that was her partner, friend…and indefinable other to be so at ease, calm, almost (dare she even think it) innocent.

She barely suppressed a snort. Peter Bishop. Innocent. Now that was one for the books.

Biting her bottom lip, Olivia dragged her eyes away from his sleeping form (which was proving to be more alluring than she'd allow herself to admit) and turned towards the window, taking a peek down at the world that lay before her. It was another beautiful day - even in its infancy. She glanced up at the sky, witnessing a burst of oranges and blues spread as far as the eye could see.

Olivia Dunham found that she was not used to such observations. What she was used to was the hustle and bustle of busy streets, cramped streets lined with cars, grubby suspect chases and haunted memories of dirt, blood, sweat and tears…but never this. This utter splendour that now surrounded her, inside and out.

And she wasn't just referring to the sky.

For the first time in what felt like decades (and probably was), Olivia felt completely unburdened…free from hurt and pain and anger and fear. All of it. Gone. Not for good of course, but for this solitary, minuscule, picturesque moment, standing between a warm bed (and even warmer companion) and a window portraying a normal almost quaint day in a foreign city, she felt…relaxed.

The old Olivia (and if she were totally honest, the new Olivia too) would have felt a little unease, nervousness at all this terribly normal and calm existence but also found that a little hesitation, a little cynicism, is always a reasonable caution - even in the eyes of a well-needed vacation away from, well, everything.

After all, wasn't she told by him once that beneath every cynic there is a frustrated romantic? So, surely, if she were to let slip a tad, teeny tiny, leak of pessimism it could be said that only good things could come her way? That it would be in his very nature to sway her negativity into something positive? That seemed like a rational hypothesis. She smirked to herself as she crept back over to the bed. Peter was definitely rubbing off on her, in all the good ways (although others more annoying than some.)

Reaching her side, she bit her lip - trying (and failing) to halt the ever expanding grin on her face as she gently put her coffee on the bedside table and pulled back the blanket, slowing slipping her body underneath. She turned on her side, just as carefully as her past movements and studied the face that now lay opposite her.

The lightly tanned, handsome face with a strong jaw and defined cheekbones. The face with alluring stubble (after only shaving the day before - it was far too hot for his usual mass) that tickled her cheek. The face that held the soft but firm lips that captured her very soul upon each contact. The face that did not feel entirely complete without the presence of the ever-sparkling (with laughter or mischief, rapid intelligence or a deadly combination of the three) uniquely coloured blue/green eyes.

She needed to see those eyes. It was time to test out her theory.

"Peter…" she called, her voice not above a whisper as her finger reached up to brush lightly against his lips.

He started to stir, a small frown creasing his forehead as he struggled, dangling on the verge of what seemed to be a pleasant dream. Slowly, Olivia saw his eyes begin to open a fraction. Her smile grew soft as his eyes met hers.

"Livia? What time is it?" he grumbled, those desirable orbs just slits as he squinted against the early morning light.

She merely grinned in response, her eyebrow lifting in that familiar way of hers. She could admit, she was feeling rather elfin, and she liked it.

"It's five thirty, give or take," she replied softly, now running her finger up his cheek and across his nose lightly. It was now his eyebrow's turn to raise. She heard his silent remark of 'five thirty? Are you nuts waking me at such an indecent hour?'

"How long have you been awake?" he asked instead, Olivia's exploration of his face obviously not bothering him.

"A while," came her vague reply.

His frown deepened at her response, his hand reaching up to cup her cheek with his palm.

"Can't sleep? Anything bothering you?" he asked, almost fully awake now.

She would never (not even if her life depended on it) ever admit it out loud but she kind of liked when he was concerned for her, it was nice to know that it went both ways for them. She shook her head, willing the ever-present smile (when did she get so damn…happy anyway?) off her face as she tried to adopt a blasé, almost fed up look.

"I'm fine…just…feeling a bit…I dunno…bored, I guess," she finished, looking away as she knew that if she looked back at him the persistent grin would reemerge. She could see him through her peripheral vision, narrowing his eyes slightly, his very own smirk beginning to form.

"Oh really? Bored?" his teasing tone began as he shifted closer to her, his hand reaching out to tilt her chin back in his direction.

Turning her head, she gave a dignified nod, biting her bottom lip. It did nothing to hide what she knew was already there.

"Well, I guess, if you are really feeling like that, we could do something to peak your interest," he responded, his hand reaching up to her hair, smoothing the fly-away pieces off her face.

Her eyebrow raised again.

"Any ideas?" she asked, trying to sound innocent but knowing that her true intentions were really beginning to creep out and make themselves known.

He just beamed, rolling his eyes, before closing the small space between them, pressing his lips against hers with a surprising passion and yet gentleness that came with early morning territory.

She reached up and ran her fingers through his hair as the kiss deepened, intensified by the two now matching not-so-subtle smiles.

Guess her hypothesis had been proven correct.

**A/N: So this is the first 'fluff' piece I've written in a very long time. Bear in mind that I hope that Olivia and Peter can ONE DAY get to this point of happiness and it's not just me going crazy and making them totally out-of-character lol. **

**I'd love a review =]**


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